Hope Springs Eternal
by cogbec
Summary: I pulled away after what seemed like an eternity and walked away, licking the stray drops off my cone as I went. I glanced back once, just to see their faces. Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle all wore expressions of surprised horror, and Draco was just staring at me with an unfathomable expression on his face. Right there and then I promised myself never to kiss him again. Draco/OC.
1. Chapter 1

I sat down in the first open compartment and waved to my mom immediately, willing her not to cry. She was a nervous wreck, so I smiled to prove that I could handle this. Anything to make her let me go to Hogwarts. I was joined by two 11-year-olds, who were whispering furiously about houses. As the train pulled away I let my face relax, and started to worry. At least the first years were doing this the right way, coming here at 11 and working your way up. My family had just moved to England from America, and I was still adapting to thinking of our new apartment—no, _flat—_as home.

As I watched the countryside go by I thought of my old home. I allowed myself to wallow in self-pity, promising myself that I wouldn't do it the rest of the year, and thought of the pine forests and raw beauty of Maine and the Appalachian mountains. I highly doubted there were moose in the UK, and just thinking of them here made me laugh under my breath. I wondered how I would compare to the rest of the students, what "year" the headmaster would put me in, and what the houses really were, not to mention which one I would be put into.

I pulled myself out of that train of thought just in time to hear one of the first-years ask about the sorting hat. My dad (having come here before) had explained as much of Hogwarts traditions to me in the two days that we had, but I couldn't remember much of what he said. They didn't know all that much about it, but I overheard the basics. Luckily, they didn't ask me about it, because I knew less than they did.

The train finally pulled to a stop. I stood up and followed the first-years out of the compartment. When I stepped off of the train I looked up and gasped, almost forgetting to keep moving so others could get off of the train themselves. The place was just so _big_!

A very large man was calling for the first-years, and I stopped, indecisive. Thankfully I didn't have to decide, because a woman with a stern, but not unkind, expression came up to me.

"Grace Cooley?"

"Yes, that's me."

"I'm Professor McGonagall, and you need to come with me." She started walking immediately, still talking. "We will sort you before the first-years. I will introduce you, you will walk up and put the hat on. It will tell everyone your house. Headmaster Dumbledore has placed you in sixth year, so that you are with your age group. You will attend some of your classes with them, but you are more advanced in some areas, so will be placed in classes more suitable to your ability. Well, here we are, I shall go and talk to the first-years, you wait here."

"Here" was a nondescript door leading into a nondescript classroom. All of the other doors looked pretty much the same. I began to wonder how people found their classes, but didn't get very far when the professor walked back out, a large gaggle of 11-year-olds following her. I fell in with them, and we went to the Great Hall to be sorted.

We walked through a large set of double doors, into a gorgeous, and MASSIVE, room. I tried not to gawk at everything, and everyone. This school was a lot bigger than my old one. I caught a glimpse of a sour-faced boy with almost-not-quite-white hair before my attention was pulled to the front by a singing hat. I looked around, but the other kids seemed not to think it was impressive, so I tried to look nonchalant until the end, when Professor McGonagall started talking.

"This year, in addiction to our first-years, we have a transfer student from America. She is a sixth-year: Grace Cooley." I walked up to the chair as normally as possible, and sat in it, putting the hat on my head.

_Hmm..._It seemed to think for a second, and yelled, "SLYTHERIN!" This was immediately followed up by loud clapping and cheering from one table, and polite claps (and grimaces) from the other three. Using that as my cue, I put the hat back on the chair and walked to the rowdy table.

I sat down, and noticed that the blonde was also in this house. I kept my mouth shut, still nervous, and allowed the sorting to go by in a blur of clapping, cheering, and hoping no one talked to me. One of the first-years who was in my compartment sat down next to me, giving me an odd look in the process.

When it was over, and the feast started, I gained the courage to look around. The people around me were chattering about inane things, so I put myself to the task of eating. I was asked some questions, but my unsatisfactory answers quickly halted any other attempts to pull me into a conversation. Well, at least until we got to the commons, which was in the dungeons of all places.

Another sixth-year, Pansy Parkinson, took me to the sixth-year's dorm and I unpacked, then headed back down to the commons, a muggle book in my hand, hoping to avoid attention. I took a seat on an empty couch, and, seemingly instantaneously, was swamped by people asking me questions.

"You really came here from America?"

"What _is_ that book you're reading?"

"Did you fly across the ocean or apparate?"

"What's it like in America?"

"Did you go to a wizarding school there?"

"What was it called?"

I answered as many as I could—"Yes, Eight Cousins, fly, different, yes, Appalachia Wizardry"—but I was overwhelmed and they were coming so quickly that I couldn't hear them all. It didn't help that every time I looked up that blonde was staring at me with his gray-blue eyes. It was disconcerting, and I was sure that he knew that. After about ten minutes of this, he spoke up.

"Are you a pureblood?" I stared at him blankly.

"Excuse me? A what?"

He laughed, a surprisingly unpleasant sound, and said, "A pureblood. Two wizard parents. Do I need to spell it out for you?" He smirked at me, and the two boys next to him laughed darkly, gutturally.

"Well, aren't we high-and-mighty?" I retaliated. "Yes I am a 'pureblood,' as you call it, but what does it matter who your parents are? It's up to each person individually to become a good wizard; they can't be skilled for you."

A hush descended on the room. Apparently I had either said something wrong, or butted heads with the wrong person. My bet was both. I half expected him to call me a Yankee, forgetting that he probably didn't know what that was. As it was he just smirked, an expression that seemed to twist his face enough to be called unhealthy. I found myself wondering if he ever smiled, or even had a pleasant expression on his face.

Talk slowly started up again. Pansy tried to claim the boy's attention, probably to talk about me, but he still stared at me, and continued to until I left the room for bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Woops, forgot one of these last time. Oh well. Not much to say, though. Just the happy disclaimer below.**

**Disclaimer: (see, I told you it would be here) I do not (and frankly don't want to) own Harry Potter. I'm not saying I don't like the series, I'm just happy to be me and not J.K. Rowling. And to own this I would have to be her. I like me. Anyway, on with the story :P**

The next week or two was a blur of finding classes, memorizing escape routes (yes, I look for those. I like being prepared for anything), figuring out the House points system, picking a favorite Quidditch team (because EVERYONE has to have a favorite Quidditch team), and generally getting lost. And found. Almost every single time I got lost a gorgeous, obnoxious, rude blonde was there to "help." I almost hated him for it. "Almost," because there was a better reason to hate him: he didn't help. He was always there with a snide comment. Like yesterday, when I lost my way using an "escape route."

"Wow, aren't we a little first-year?" I jumped as his disdainful voice burst through my trying-to-remember-if-I-turn-here-or-at-the-next-corner daze. "You know, that perplexed look would be endearing if you were actually attractive."

"Wow Draco, I never imagined you were a chivalrous one. No wonder the girls hang all over you." I retorted sarcastically. His face hardened, looking at me with sheer hatred in his eyes. "Um... so if you're not going to help me I shall get going now… I'm sure even Snape would be mad if I was late."

"You really are confused, little girl. We don't have Defense Against the Dark Arts now."

"I'm not in your class, smart one," I hoped he wouldn't continue this train of thought; I didn't like flaunting the fact that I was more advanced than my peers.

"So you're stupid as well as confused," He stared at me, practically begging me to punch him. Thankfully, I was smarter than that.

"Don't tell the seventh-years that! I'm sure they'd take offense to it, seems that I'm in their class…"

"Whatever," He looked at me calculatingly. "I'll walk you there."

I stared at him incredulously, and he laughed humorlessly. He dared me to follow him with his eyes as he started down the hallway backwards, and I had no choice but to follow him.

He bowed mockingly when we got there, every feature patronizing me. "Your class, little girl." I giggled, causing him to straighten up and stare at me, his face a mixture of revulsion and annoyance and confusion. I smiled at him sweetly and waltzed into the classroom.

Thankfully I wasn't too late, and Snape barely looked at me. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding, and sat down next to some friends I'd made in the seventh-years.

Late that night I lay in bed, thinking about tomorrow (Hogsmeade), and debating whether to go or not. It was all everyone was talking about, but I didn't really see it as the best thing that could happen to me. I just wanted a day to be alone and do some muggle things, like I had done in Maine, without Dra—anyone bothering me about it. All of the thinking was making it hard to sleep, not to mention worrying about the Potions essay I had due on Monday. I wasn't in the "Slug Club," mainly because I came from the States and he didn't think I'd ever have connections that could be helpful to him, and therefore he didn't really like me. I did well in his class, I just worked extra hard to do well.

Pansy came upstairs—none too quietly, I might add—and literally fell into bed, asleep and snoring when her head hit the pillow. After that I gave up on sleep, grabbed a book, and headed down to the relative peace of the common room.

As I lay down in front of the fire on my back with my feet propped up on the nearby couch, I wished (not for the first time) for a window. The only problem that I could see with living in the dungeons was the lack of sunlight/moonlight. I missed seeing the sky, and stars, and even clouds, on nights when there was nothing better to do but read and work on ANOTHER potions essay.

I didn't even hear his footsteps as he walked down the stairs, but I saw his profile as he started sneaking towards me. One good reason to read on your back holding your book above your head, I guess.

"Grace?" he asked, uncertainty tainting his otherwise entirely pretentious tone of voice.

"I'm impressed Draco. I didn't know you even knew my name." I stumbled over my words a little, proving how tired I really was.

"What's with the snippiness? Late night?" He asked, amused at my slight incoherency.

"I'm just more interested in my book than I am in trading insults with you. I'm tired Draco, can't you ruin someone else's self-esteem for the night?" I asked, rubbing my eyes and putting my book on my stomach, folding my hands over it and looking up at his gorgeous face.

"Another muggle book? What are you, a Weasley?"

"Draco. I'm not in the mood. Please, can't you wake up Crabbe and insult him instead?"

He stopped and looked at me, surprised by my begging but unwilling to show it. "Did you just say please? I didn't think that was in your vocabulary. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just tired." I waved my hand weakly, hoping he'd just go away so I could try to read. He sat cross-legged next to me instead. Jerk.

"Biggest lie in the book," he accused, looking at me pointedly.

"Right after 'that was my last piece of gum,'" I added, giggling a little until I registered the confusion and annoyance on his face. "Oh right, I forgot Mr-high-and-mighty doesn't like to hear about muggle things. I'm surprised you're putting yourself on the same level as a 'Weasley' like me."

He went to stand up, but I involuntarily put my hand on his knee, suddenly wanting company in my insomnia. Slowly he relaxed again, and as soon as he had I removed my hand.

"Enjoy being insulted, do you? I bet it turns you on." he finally said as haughtily as he could.

"Don't flatter yourself. If you're down here long enough Pansy's Draco-sense might tingle and I'll have a snore-free bedroom again," I replied with as much venom as I could muster: none. He laughed, and after a second I joined in. We sat in silence for a moment, and to keep myself awake I studied him.

"You wear altogether too much black. It makes your skin and hair look whiter than they are. Maybe a light blue…."

"I don't need your help picking out my clothing. I'll wear what I want, little girl."

I sat up and tried to wake up, but my head stayed foggy from the exhaustion I'd been holding at bay. I shook it to clear said fog, and ended up making it worse instead. Enough was enough; I needed my sleep.

"Good thing, cause there's no way I'm waking up early to plan your outfit." I walked out of the room, not chancing a look back. It wasn't until I climbed into bed that I remembered my book—it had fallen off my stomach as I stood up. Too tired to go back downstairs, I had just enough time to hope that Draco hadn't thrown it into the fire before I fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, here's the disclaimer again. Woot.**

**DISCLAIMER: nope. Unowned. HP is not mine.**

**There, this chapter has been DISCLAIMED. **

* * *

><p>I woke up late the next morning—the only way I could tell being that I was the only girl in the room. (Did I mention how much I missed windows? Well I missed windows.) I laid there for a while, wondering about last night, debating whether or not it had really happened, when I remembered (again) my book. I practically ran downstairs after that, after pulling on jeans and a t-shirt with a lobster on it first.<p>

I looked by the fire, fearfully _into _the fire, and around the whole commons, but I didn't find it. Deciding to grill Draco about it later, I walked out in search of the picture that lead to the kitchens. It wasn't until I was almost there that I realized that I was wearing a _lobster_ on my shirt, but at that point I couldn't be bothered to turn around—my stomach was yelling at me, and food was calling.

The house elves all looked up excitedly when I walked in, begging me to give them something to do. So I asked for an ice cream cone, because who wouldn't want ice cream for breakfast? I sat and talked to them for a while, forcing myself to abstain from asking if I could help—not because I was into "house elf rights," but because I liked helping in the kitchen.

As I left I debated what I wanted to do that day, and, coming upon a courtyard, I decided to sit down and think about it while I finished my ice cream. Of course, I just stared at the sky and my surroundings, reveling in the sunshine that was so rare.

I jumped as my ice cream cone was stolen right out of my hand, looking around wildly and realizing that—of course—it was Draco. And his goons: Crabbe and Goyle.

"Have a fondness for ice cream, Grace?" I glared daggers at him, but felt the laughter bubbling up as I stared at his expression of superiority. It was just ice cream for pity's sake.

"Gonna give it back, Draco?" I couldn't hold it in any longer; my laughter burst out of me loudly. Draco's expression changed quickly to dumbfounded, matching almost perfectly that of Crabbe and Goyle's, adding to the hilarity of the situation.

"Laughing matter is it?" He took a step towards me and licked the ice cream cone deliberately.

"Hilarious. Though I do want my ice cream back,"

"Well that's gonna cost you."

"Oooh, I'm so scared," I taunted, rolling my eyes. "It's just ice cream, Draco."

"And yet, you're still here, wanting it back." I nodded slightly, acknowledging his point. He continued, "So I'm going to hold it for ransom. What would you give me for your ice cream?"

"What would you do for a Klondike Bar?" I sang under my breath. "What could you possibly want, Draco? A date with Hermione Granger?" I said aloud, almost wishing I hadn't as he barely controlled his fury.

As soon as he was under control he said, "Something you wouldn't want to give. This ice cream is really good, I don't want to give it up." Crabbe and Goyle nodded vigorously. Like bobbleheads.

"Make her kiss somebody!" Crabbe spoke up, to my great embarrassment. I watched Draco hesitantly.

"Hmm…but who?" he stroked his chin with his free hand.

"Better pick quickly. My ice cream's melting," I commented, trying to get this over with as fast as possible and thanking my lucky stars that most of the students were at Hogsmeade, _not _witnessing my embarrassment.

Draco looked around thoughtfully, and Pansy picked this moment to walk in. I almost thought he was going to say her when he turned slightly to look at her, but he turned back to me and said, "Me."

I laughed loudly. "Bring it," I said, staring him down. He stared back at me incredulously, and continued staring as I walked up to him hurriedly and pressed my lips to his grabbing my ice cream cone with one hand.

I was going to pull away as soon as possible, but he put his now-free hands around my waist and held me closely, pressing harder and going deeper than I'd expected, kissing me fiercely. It was (sadly enough) the best kiss I'd had in a long time. I pulled away after what seemed like an eternity, and walked away, licking the stray drops off my cone as I went. I glanced back once, just to see their faces. Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle all wore expressions of surprised horror, and Draco was just staring at me with an unfathomable expression on his face. Right there and then I promised myself never to kiss him again.

* * *

><p>The afternoon found me sitting on a window ledge in an over-large sweatshirt, reading letters from my parents. They both wrote about even more troubling events, and contemplated returning to the States as soon as possible. I grabbed my notebook of colorful letter paper and began my replies; dwelling on how school was going and the weather, instead of our imminent departure from the world I had just begun to get used to.<p>

I paused, wondering which friend to write about in each letter (I always wrote about different friends in different letters in order to keep my parents on their toes), and stared out the window at the sky.

I decided on Margo for my mother—Margo's sense of style and over-all girliness would please her to no end—and Charlie for my dad—he'd get a kick out of Charlie's name, seems how she wasn't male. As I finished my letters they showed up, arm-in-arm, coming back from Hogsmeade.

"You should have come, Grace! There is this _darling _little clothes-store there!" Margo squealed, bubbly as ever. She was in Hufflepuff, and almost never unhappy.

"She was in 7th heaven, and dragged me all over the place," Charlie commented sarcastically, her smile telling us that she enjoyed it. Charlie was in Ravenclaw. We were all in Muggle Studies together, not to mention the incredible amount of time we spent together outside of class.

"Hey, you bought a skirt, so don't give me that shit!"

"I wasn't saying I didn't enjoy it, I just felt like a human puppet, getting pulled all over the place like that."

"Well, while you two were gallivanting around Hogsmeade, I was forced to kiss Draco Malfoy," I admitted, as keeping secrets wasn't in my nature at the time.

"NOWAY—HOWWASIT—UNFAIR!" they screamed/squealed, their voices overlapping each other's.

"He is so hot," Charlie stated matter-of-factly.

"He's mean, though," countered Margo. "But yeah, definitely hot. In a bad boy kind of way."

"He's a deusche most of the time," I stated.

"_Most _of the time. But what about the .00001% of the time that he spent kissing you?" asked Margo.

"_I _kissed _him,_ smart one," I retorted.

"That's not important right now. Just tell us how it was already," Charlie complained.

"Fine. It was...pretty incredible, actually."

"I KNEW IT! I just _knew_ it!" Margo actually jumped up and down, causing Charlie and me to laugh so hard that I started falling off the windowsill, Charlie tried to catch me, and we ended up in a heap on the floor, still laughing.

"What? It's true!" She pretended to be annoyed, but Margo couldn't hold back too long—she burst into laughter as well.

Tears were streaming down my face when we finally stopped and made an attempt to get up. Untangling was a bit of a workout, but once we were standing we realized that we were so tired we just had to go back to our dorms for some sleep. Okay, I might have pushed the matter a bit because I didn't want to tell them about kissing Draco, but hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

I went up to the owlery to send my letters, and started down to the dungeons, looking out every single window I passed before I got below ground level.


	4. Chapter 4

I woke up to the sound of a slamming door and a thump as another body landed in my bed. I lay there for a second to see if they would try anything, my wand at the ready. When they didn't, I whispered a spell to close my bed-curtains, cast a _silencio_ and a_ lumos_ to see the face of the intruder.

This was automatically greeted with a groan from the blond-haired boy, who sat up and asked me what I was doing in his bed.

"Your bed?" I asked quietly, hoping to keep him calm (in my experience, tired boys are generally prone to be angry boys).

"Yes, my bed," he grumbled.

"Hun, you are in the girl's dormitory. I've been here since there were lanterns on to prove that in the next bed over sleeps Pansy Parkinson, snoring blissfully away," I insisted, hoping to wake him up enough to get him to leave.

"Dammit," he mumbled as he rolled back over, facing the curtains, making no move to get out.

"Well, aren't you going to go to your room?" I asked, pushing him lightly towards the edge of the bed.

He sat up abruptly. "Grace, I have been up all day, working very hard on something that will cost my life if I can't complete. I am not _interested_ in walking back upstairs and then down some more stairs to _my _dormitory. If you want, you can sleep in my bed, but I am not moving." He thumped back down onto the bed.

"Okay," I whispered, then found my voice, hopeful he hadn't noticed the slight waver I hadn't planned on. "But if you're still here when Pansy wakes up _you _are dealing with her, and if she comes after me for this you _will _stop her. Deal?"

"Deal," he whispered, laughing lightly and groggily. "Now goodnight, Grace Cooley."

"Goodnight Draco Malfoy." I rolled over to face away from him, pulled the covers up to my neck, and prayed that I would wake up a decent distance away from him.

* * *

><p>Unsurprisingly enough, I woke up before His Miserably Tired Highness. Surprisingly, though, I was a foot from him (I still wasn't good enough to guesstimate the metric system), staring at his face.<p>

I sat up slowly, hoping I wouldn't wake him, then realized it was Monday and he needed to wake up for breakfast anyways. I peeked through the curtains to make sure Pansy was already upstairs before waking him up, though.

"Mornin' sunshine!" I giggled as I poked his face.

"What kind of a wake-up is _that_?" he spat, staring at me, his eyes a cross between animosity and amusement.

"The Grace Cooley kind. Don't like, don't sleep here," I retorted happily (and a few decibels louder to wake him up some more).

"It's a risk I might end up taking. The girls' beds are so much more comfortable than the guys'," he remarked, cracking the first sincere grin I'd seen. "I'd take it up with our head of house, but even he might have a problem with the how-I-know-that aspect of it."

I laughed, surprised at Draco's about-face in temperament, then sobered quickly. "It's time for breakfast, smiley. I'm sure after you get some food in your tired-out self you'll be your usual style of jerk," I said, smiling at him before grabbing his hand and pulling him off of the bed with me.

He narrowed his eyes at me and walked to the door. "Don't forget, little girl, I'm a scary and hostile Slytherin." He tossed the line at me as he closed the door behind him, his laughter undermining his creepy tone.

I stood stunned for a second, replaying all that had happened, before shrugging it off and going to shower, sure everything would be back to normal after breakfast.

* * *

><p>Margo and Charlie begged me to tell me everything Draco ever said to me, and I learned that I could indeed keep a secret as I hid the hidden side of him from them every time. I never told them how I watched him covertly every day, or how I noticed what he ate at meals (always something warm), how he ate his meals (never spilling anything, a complete opposite of my own clumsiness), what he wore, and how unhealthy he looked, no matter how much he ate.<p>

They didn't see what I saw; that he always try to hide his pallor, or how he always avoided people in the hallways, or his eyes. Most of the time (especially when he was torturing—or trying to torture—Potter) they were still the dark, bottomless pits they always were, but when he looked at me they shifted slightly, sparking with the hint of life. I watched his eyes constantly, laughing inwardly every time he was affected just by looking at me. Watching him lose even that tiny bit of control became my drug. I was slowly falling in love with his eyes. Not the rest of him—not yet.

* * *

><p>"I've kissed guys before; I just haven't felt that THING!" Margo quoted from our most recent favorite Muggle movie (Never Been Kissed) that we'd watched the night before on Margo's bed (the Hufflepuffs being too nervous to kick out both a Ravenclaw <em>and <em>a Slytherin from their dorm). We were pretending to watch a Quidditch game to waste time, and getting more and more ridiculous with each passing moment.

"Well maybe _you_ haven't, but our Grace sure has!" crowed Charlie, giving me a vigorous pat on the back and smirking at my expression.

"I have not."

"Oh don't deny it. Noone can kiss the 'Slytherin Sex God' and not feel that THING." Margo laughed at Charlie's rendition of her high girlish voice.

"Oh big deal. I kissed him, so what? Doesn't mean I want to shag him!"

"Ooh listen to our Grace, spouting out British slang like a pro," Margo chortled at my American expense.

"Margo you forget. Our Grace isn't like most girls. She's _American_. There's gotta be a shield against sexiness in her DNA," Charlie commented, joining in the rag-on-Grace fun.

"Oh yeah! DNA versus Draco Malfoy, sexy Slytherin. Wonder who'll win?" Margo managed to get out between chuckles.

"You two are insufferable," I squeezed out, laughing uncontrollably at my two crazy friends. They didn't even know the half of it. "Pay attention the game, won't ya?"

"Oh Grace, it's only Gryffindor against Hufflepuff. Everyone knows Gryffindor will win," Charlie sassed back at me.

"And besides, it's more fun to take the mickey out of you than watch the game," agreed Margo, unfazed by the slight to her house. "So. Have you, Grace Cooley, felt that thing?"

No, Margo, you have to ask the real question. 'Has_ Draco Malfoy_ felt that thing?'" corrected Charlie.

Still giggling, I looked down into the pitch, then at Chalie, then over Charlie. "Ask him yourself," I stated, startled by the discovery of a blond head making its way towards us.

"OhmyGod. I hope us just got here," whispered Margo hurriedly.

"He has—"

"And he's coming this way!" Charlie butted in, also whispering.

He swaggered up to us, smirk firmly in place (almost like a defense mechanism, I noticed, waiting for his façade to crack). I smiled at him to throw him off-balance.

"Hey Draco," I lifted head in that eyebrow-chin-head move that guys use when they want more, fueled by the barely hidden giggles of my friends. Draco's eyes hardened even more (if that was possible), and I wondered if he was mad or trying not to laugh at my attempt at male posturing.

"Grace," he sneered. Definitely mad. Oops. "Have you seen Pansy?"

"Thankfully, no. I've had my fill of irritating-mixed-with-ugly today," I said, narrowing my eyes in confusion.

"Good." He grabbed my arm and dragged me from the stands. Margo looked slightly scared, and Charlie gave me a thumbs-up, waggling her eyebrows. Typical.

He pulled me into the castle, only letting go of me when we stopped, in front of the painting to the kitchens, where he proceeded to tickle the pear and grab my arm again to pull me in.

When he finally let go again I immediately rubbed my arm, surprised that he didn't leave a mark. He turned to face me, and I felt relief rush through me. His eyes held none of the hardness they had had earlier, instead the spark I was beginning to claim as mine was back.

"What are we doing here?" I asked, shaking my head slightly with confusion, smiling automatically at his eyes.

"Hiding from Pansy," he stated grumpily, grabbing a cookie off of the nearest counter and eating it with gusto as he sat down in a chair he had transfigured into something akin to a Lay-Z-Boy.

"And you brought me along for the ride?" I asked, confused as to my role.

"Alibi," he stated. "If Crabbe and Goyle notice both of us are gone, they'll distract Pansy so she won't notice, instead of helping her to look for me."

I sat on the counter with the cookies, taking one and nibbling on it, thinking about what he said and counting each cookie he took. We sat in silence, him content to eat, and me content to watch him like a mother hen.

"What are you staring at me for?" he finally asked.

"Oh, just your amazing good looks," I teased, laughing at the surprised look on his face, and hoping he wouldn't press the subject. I wanted to keep my stalker tendencies as much on the down-low as possible.

He smirked at me, causing me to blush a bit and look down at my swinging legs. I swung off of the counter then, remembering that I had an Arithmancy essay to finish off before the weekend, which I planned to spend gleefully walking around the school grounds stepping on every crunchy leaf I saw.

"Well, see ya, I've got things to do," I said quickly, getting ready to escape back to the world without a confusing—and underfed—boy.

"Grace," he spoke, stopping me before I could take a step. "Thank you in advance for not mentioning this." He looked pointedly at me, daring me to contradict him.

"No problem!" I called, waving to him as I left the house elf domain.

* * *

><p>I looked out the first window I came to, surprised to see the sunset, and glad that my parents weren't there to see what a horribly unhealthy supper I'd had.<p>

Remembering my friends, I sighed. I was going to have a lot of explaining away to do, in order to keep my unspoken promise to the boy in the kitchen.

I found myself a window and perched on the ledge, watching the sun go down and thinking of home to keep myself from thinking of Draco Malfoy. I could do that in the dark. My mind wandered in circles, and I slowly realized there were people whispering furiously down the hall from me.

"I'm telling you, he's a Death Eater!" one voice hissed.

"And I'm telling you he might not be. You need to calm down, Harry," a quieter, saner voice responded.

"Of course he's a Death Eater, Hermione! He's a Malfoy, isn't he?" a last voice stated.

The quiet voice sighed, and the trio moved out of hearing range, something I was grateful for.

It hadn't occurred to me that Draco could be a Death Eater. I thought of what I'd read about Voldemort and his followers (not nearly enough, I was realizing), and I found myself pitying the boy.

_Grace, I have been up all day, working very hard on something that will cost my life if I can't complete. _

I couldn't see that being a Death Eater had helped him all that much. I had no idea what he was like before this year (not much different, if the second-years were to be believed), but I was sure that he'd lost weight since the beginning of the year, and I knew for a fact he was carrying an impossibly heavy burden.

I was scared, not _of _him, but _for_ him, and that worried me.

I realized that I had yet another secret now, and this one was even less mine than the others.

And I realized, I wanted to kiss him again.

**Howdy :) I know, I know, "The staircase to the girl's dormitory turns to a slide when guys try to take it!" One: That's only the Gryffindor dorms. Two: In my offshoot of the Potter world, the dormitories of Slytherin are below the common room. So, it turning into a slide would be counter-productive. Anyway, sorry I took so FRIGGIN LONG to update, but I'm back in the game! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Read and Review please :)**

Chapter Five:

It's funny how easily you can make the decision to trust someone. Or rather, how easily young people seem to make that decision. For about two weeks I felt like a single mother of ten little first-years.

My world flip-flopped in a day or two; all of a sudden all of those kids wanted me to help with their spell-casting.

It started, I think, when I was standing in a hallway and decided to grab a small child and pull her out of the way of a hard-eyed Draco Malfoy. She thought I was gonna beat her or steal her books or something until she looked up to see me flipping him off with a grin on my face. She looked from me to him to me again, and I saw a glint of something in her eyes that was very Slytherin, but she gave me a hug and ran off, so I ignored it. I thought nothing of the episode; I had been too busy getting lost before to help out.

That night, as I wrote another potions essay (you'd think, being Slytherins, Slughorn would go easy on us) on a couch in the common room, the same little girl cuddled up to me and pulled out her Transfiguration essay.

"You might want to watch what you do," I whispered conspiratorially. "Slytherins don't cuddle."

She giggled. "The older kids won't do anything if I'm next to you."

I thought about this for a while, looking around the room and realizing she was right, so I conceded defeat and went back to writing.

The next morning she and friend of hers walked with me to breakfast. By the end of the week I felt like a mother goose, with a whole gaggle of first-years behind me.

The seventh-years laughed at me as I came in to breakfast, but they weren't happy that I was "coddling" the youngsters.

"They'll never grow strong if you're always protecting them, Grace!" one complained.

"All Slytherins need a hard outer shell and we make it by teasing the younger generations; that's our job!" justified another.

So I ended up helping them with their spell casting. I taught them small things, like a charm to tie someone's shoes together, or a hex to make tormentors sneeze for a full minute, and told them never to use them on an older Slytherin.

And I tried to dissuade them from following me all of the time. Especially on the way to breakfast, because Draco looked more and more tired and I was beginning to expect an extra body in my bed almost every night. I was not interested in explaining that to small children who all looked up to me.

I learned many things about my house during those weeks. The seventh-years didn't want me mothering the kids, yet when they found a bruised and battered young Slytherin they brought them straight to me. I got the name of their attacker while fixing them up, which I then told to a specific group of Slytherins, who immediately sought retribution. Between us we taught the young ones how to be a Slytherin: pay attention to the hierarchy, get tough, don't show pain, and it's Slytherins against the world, so we have to stick together.

One morning after the kids stopped following me, I was feeling pretty powerful, so I sat next to Draco, intent on doing something to make him eat. Noone else was going to—even Pansy never noticed how thin he was getting—so I decided to stop watching him and start talking to him.

He looked up as I sat down, surprise well hidden in his almost-dead eyes (but at this point I was an expert Draco-eye-reader), then continued breaking his food into small pieces to make it look like he ate some of it.

"How 'bout you actually eat it?" I asked conversationally, grabbing a muffin. "It's not hard, look." I took a bite.

"How about you take your do-good self and sit where that attitude belongs: in a different House," he stated quietly, looking at me with something akin to hatred in his eyes.

I hid the jolt of pain that went through me. "Well, if your 'friends' won't try to help you someone should," I said. "I mean, did you eat any of that?"

"I'm not one of your first-year pups. You don't have the authority to mother me," he replied, the venom in his voice gaining strength, even as his volume went down. Apparently I was too well-liked for him to be heard fighting with me. "You don't need to pretend to care so you can feel good about yourself."

"I guess if I put spinach in my eggs I wouldn't eat it either. Try the muffins, or the cheese," I replied, hoping that if I just kept pushing he'd eat something, and unwilling to let him land any punches to distract me. I also hoped that if I kept it light the others at the table would ignore what he was saying so he could get it out of his system.

"Just because you think I need help doesn't mean I want it from you. You prefer every House to Slytherin. Why don't you go sit with them?"

"Cheese. Just a bite. You need protein." I pushed a piece into his hand.

"Pushy bitch," he retorted, and seemed to grow even angrier, his eyes clouded with rage.

"And yet I'm 'not a Slytherin.' You just described Pansy perfectly." I raised my eyebrows. "Eat."

He looked like he was about to hit me, but instead he rose quickly and stormed out. I laughed quietly to myself: he ate the cheese on his way out of the Great Hall. The venting must have done him some good; he couldn't hate me that much.

I had been having private talks with Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore. They seemed to think that I could graduate early, considering my grades and my abundance of seventh-year-level classes. I hoped they were right, for if I took my NEWTs this year then my parents couldn't use school as an excuse to drag me back to America with them. Granted, Voldemort was much less of a threat there for now, but I felt like there was something holding me to this country. I was hoping they wouldn't mind me staying too much, but I knew they'd send twenty Howlers the moment I tried to bring it up. I also forwent telling Margo or Charlie my hopes, for they would automatically connect my unwillingness to be an ocean away to Draco, and I didn't really want them getting close to the truth. I was hiding a lot, and I had a bad feeling I'd be lying a lot more as the weeks went by.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Margo, Charlie, and I were sitting around a table with our butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks, trying to figure out how I was going to break the news to my parents that I wasn't going back to the States with them. Well, Charlie was trying to help; Margo was trying to make me 'admit' that I was staying because of Draco. I don't know why she was so obsessed with him, it's not like I was obsessed with him or anything.

We were getting nowhere.

"Margo, if you don't shut up about Malfoy I'm gonna hex you into the next century!" I threatened.

"Yeah Margo, this isn't about the real reason she's staying in the UK, it's about the reason she's gonna tell her parents!" Charlie insisted, winking. "I mean, she can't tell them it's for a boy, now can she?"

"Yeah, well, I just think she should admit it out loud to herself, first," Margo defended, glancing meaningfully at me.

"Okay, can we move past him?" I complained.

"You could tell them you're joining the Order of the Phoenix!" cried Margo.

"No, I'm not gonna lie. And I couldn't kill people, Margo."

"True. Grace is a bad Slytherin—she's got a pacifist streak," remarked Charlie.

"Shut it, you! I'm a great Slytherin!" I hissed at her like a snake, and we all laughed.

I wasn't a big fan of going to Hogsmeade—I much preferred relaxing and exploring the castle on my days off—but the other two had had five years to do that, so I went with Margo and Charlie every once in a while. When I felt really nice, and not like sleeping until noon.

It was the middle of October—I remember because I'd gotten a really nice tan jacket that day, and was wearing it contentedly, and because we were talking about fall colors—when I learned that Snape was trying to help Draco on his super-secret, I'll-die-if-I-can't-complete-it mission.

I still wasn't all that good at keeping secrets, so it was just another thing to add the the ever-growing list of things to stress over.

Anyway, I was talking to Margo and Charlie—hissing like a snake—when Snape appeared behind me and asked if I had seen Draco that day.

"I saw him in the common room this morning," I said. "And also at breakfast."

"Are those the only times?" he asked in his normal monotone.

"Yes, sir. If it helps, I haven't seen Crabbe or Goyle either. And Draco ate more than normal at breakfast, so he must be doing something that requires energy," I spoke slowly, recounting what I had noticed about Draco that morning, and hoping vainly that Margo and Charlie weren't noticing how much I'd noticed the boy this morning.

Snape just nodded and went to leave. "I trust you all know better than to talk of this," he said, glancing sternly at Margo and Charlie before he swept out.

The moment he was gone they began to tease me mercilessly over what they dubbed my Draco-obsessive-disorder, while I zoned out, trying to figure out why Snape was looking for Draco. The very fact that he came into the Three Broomsticks to ask the only Slytherin in the bar revealed how important it was that he find him, for Snape was never one to leave the castle if he didn't have to. If he was worried about him it only showed through his inflection; something the other two girls wouldn't have picked up on. I wanted to believe that he was looking for him on a mission for Dumbledore, but I couldn't help feel that that was wishful thinking.

I didn't want there to be any other reason for it, though, so I tuned back into the conversation. Margo and Charlie were fighting over who would pay the tab, and when I said I would pay it Charlie laughing exclaimed, "She has returned from the dead!" to which Margo whisper-yelled, "Zombie!" and we ran from the bar.

"Hey!" I heard as we exited.

I ran back in to pay the tab and apologize to Rosmerta, then chased them out again to the sound of her chuckles.

* * *

><p>Later that day, I was lying on my bed reading a letter from my parents, when Draco jumped on, closed the curtains, and cast a <em>Muffliato<em>.

"Well, good afternoon," I said. "Hiding from Pansy again? I didn't think you were such a coward."

He scoffed and ignored me, making himself comfortable, lying with his hands behind his head staring at the few pictures I had Spellotaped to the roof of my bed canopy.

Deciding that he would come out with whatever he wanted to say at some point, I returned to my letter, oddly comfortable in his presence.

"No boys?" he finally asked, gesturing to the pictures.

"Unless you count my dad and that cute little boy to my right in this picture," I replied, pointing to a picture taken of me and the little brunette I had babysat in Maine. "He wanted to marry me."

Draco smirked at me. "He'll be happy you're going back then."

I turned onto my side and stared at him in astonishment. "How do you know my parents want to go back?"

"Read your letter," he stated nonchalantly.

My stare turned into one of indignation, and I hit him soundly on his stomach. "How dare you!"

"Easily. So when are you leaving?"

I rolled back onto my back and stared resolutely at the ceiling. "I'm not."

It was his turn to roll onto his side and stare at me in astonishment, though his was better hidden than mine. "Why not?"

"Oh I don't know, I just don't want to leave yet."

"What are you going to do here, if you don't leave with them?"

"Careful there Malfoy, I might start to think you care about me," I retorted sarcastically, annoyed that he didn't drop it.

"You shouldn't be going against your parents. Family is the most important thing," he replied, anger seeping through his polished tones.

"I agree, and yet I'm going to need to live on my own someday anyway, might as well start now," I commented, sensing that we weren't entirely talking about me anymore. "I can't see spending my whole life living with them, or even near them. I want to be my own individual, and to do that I need to be away from them for a while."

He continued to stare at me for a while, formulating a response. "Well if that's how you feel about it why haven't you told them yet? They still think you're going," he pointed at my letter.

"I haven't figured out how to tell them. They'll be super-mad and I don't want them to worry about me, but they will, and my mom will cry, and I'll probably get a Howler from my dad for making her cry-"

"Okay, okay, I get it," he cut me off. "You're a coward."

"I just don't like causing pain unnecessarily."

"If it's not necessary why aren't you just leaving with them?"

"Because it's what I want. And it's time I start making my own choices," I glanced at him to see if he was going to fight me on this some more.

He looked at me like he had swallowed something rotten and turned back to the ceiling with a sigh.

"So what are you going to do here?" he asked.

"Why do you want to know so badly?" I looked at him quizzically.

"Because Voldemort's alive, stupid. If you don't get out of the country you better have a good plan for hiding from him."

I rolled my eyes and continued to stare at the ceiling, annoyed at his attempt to pry into my life.

"Why are you here, Malfoy?"

"Snape"-he spit the name out with disgust-"found me and said he'd been looking for me all morning, even going so far as to ask you where I was," he stared at me, daring me to affirm his statement.

"Yeah, he came all the way out to the Three Broomsticks to find me. Must have been awful worried about you," I replied, hoping to get a rise out of the boy.

He stared at me angrily. "Snape needs to learn that I can take care of myself," he snarled.

"How much have you eaten today?"

He stared at me, confused.

"That's what I thought. You don't even eat right; how is anyone supposed to believe that you can take care of yourself?"

"It's not like anyone at this school cares about that," he stated nastily.

"Snape apparently does."

"Ha. Snape's just doing what my mother wants him to do. You should hear her letters. 'Snape's a smart man, he can help.' 'Snape might have ideas, you should talk to him.' 'Snape knows more about this than anyone, why don't you ask him?'" he scowled, and continued bitterly. "I'm not an idiot; I know when people think I'm not good enough."

I just looked at him, unsure what to say, but sure that if I said anything it would be the wrong thing. It was odd, realizing that he wasn't as strong as he pretended to be, and even odder wishing I could help him have that strength for real.

I let him sleep in my bed that night, hoping I could provide a place where nothing was expected of him for this boy who slouched as if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders.


	7. Interlude 1

**Interlude One**

She likes the rain, too. I'd caught her enjoying the sunshine with an expression that bordered on sinful, but she loves the rain almost as much. Most Slytherins have a dastardly-villian-type enjoyment of the rain, but she just loves it, pure and simple, though how someone can be so pure and so sinful at the same time is beyond me. Her purity makes me angry. No one that happy should be in Slytherin. No single person in Slytherin my entire six years here has been that obnoxiously nice. She doesn't hate anyone. I used to think that was impossible, considering even the 'golden trio' hate people, but she ever has the gleam of hatred in her eyes.

She likes me, too. I used to think that was impossible, too.

She laughs, and I don't think she's laughing at me.

She smiles, and I don't think she's trying to find any juicy secrets for the gossips.

She looks and me, and I think...

She's impossible. I know she's not a product of my mind, because never would I have been able to imagine this conundrum. Purity and sin. She doesn't seem real, but she can't be fake.

...And I think she sees me.


	8. Chapter 7

"_When it's raining, you won't find me complaining..._" -When I Think About Angels by Jamie O'Neal

Dear Dad,

I have decided that I miss Maine, but I really want to try staying in the UK for a while. It has really grown on me, and I want to get to know the Muggle side of it as well as the Wizard. Don't worry about Voldemort: I'm going to pretend to be a Muggle. Please don't be mad. I really don't want to make you mad. I'm better at defense than the seventh years here, and you know how good I am at pretending to be a Muggle. I know how abrupt this sounds, but I can't seem to formulate my thoughts in a way that makes sense and is persuasive. I've tried to write this letter so many times, and I just need to come out with it. Please understand, I want to know if Voldemort wins this war: I don't want to just hear about it when he comes flying across the Atlantic. And if he wins I swear I'll fly home and we can hide out in the mountains where they'll never find us.

Please just let me do this.

Love,

Grace

* * *

><p>I got a Howler the next morning. Draco took one look at it, grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the Great Hall as fast as he could. We fell into a broom cupboard just before it went off, raging in our ears for all it was worth. It finished with a sad, "I guess this is your decision and your mother and I respect that, but if you don't stay in touch we will come back for you."<p>

I looked up at Draco, who was staring at the left-over scraps of envelope angrily.

"I'm sorry! I knew it would be a Howler. Why did you pull me from the Great Hall? You should have stayed and kept eating, you know you don't eat enough-"

"They're letting you stay." I stopped babbling to stare at him. That's why he was mad?

"Um, yeah, sounds like it."

"They shouldn't let you stay. They should be coming her and forcing you out of the country. What are they doing? What are YOU doing?" he was practically snarling at the end, staring at me like I was the devil incarnate, which was ironic, considering he was working for Voldemort. His eyes were surrounded by the bags under his eyes, and I just wanted to put my hand to them, to beg him to get more sleep, eat more, take care of himself. It was distracting, considering he was yelling at me.

"What?"

"You. Should. Not. Be. Allowed. To. Stay." He swept out of the cupboard before I could say anything else.

Margo and Charlie met me at the door to the Great Hall, clearly worried about me.

"Did he eat you?"

"Did he kiss you?"

They stared at each other, horrified by what the other had said. I started giggling, and after a beat they joined in. I endured a few moments of Draco-centric teasing before I ran off to my first class. It wasn't fair how easily I noticed all of the ways he needed help when I needed to have the wits to argue, or how easily my friend knew how to push the buttons that would bother me the most.

* * *

><p>It rained all day. I sat at a window and stared out at the rain, getting a thrill every time I heard the thunder. I was so engrossed with the rain and my thoughts that I missed Pansy and Goyle sneaking up on me.<p>

His hand landed heavily on my shoulder, and he pushed me off the window ledge while Pansy spouted verbal abuse at me for going near Draco ever. I stood and looked at her blankly until she stopped.

"You done?"  
>"Don't you dare speak to me like that. Someday I am going to join my family with A Very Powerful Wizard, and you will still be a pathetic Slytherin wannabe." At my impassivity she screamed, back-handing me in the face, leaving four parallel scratches. Goyle glared daggers at me while Pansy shuddered with her rage. I took one last look at both of them before I sped away from the pair.<p>

Once I thought I was far enough away I started running, not stopping until I had managed to get to the Hufflepuff dorms. Margo had shown me where they were, and I guiltily used my Slytherin badge to scare a third-year into letting me in. Margo took one look at my face and dragged me out into the rain and under the closest bunch of trees. She knew I found solace in the rain, and I couldn't help but feel grateful that I found a friend as wonderful as her.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Her hands went to my face and my hair and back to my face, her worry making her frantic. I winced as she touched the scratches. Thunder rolled, making us both jump.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I promise," I said as I gently removed her hands from my face. "Pansy and Goyle just roughed me up a little bit. Apparently I'm not good enough for Dra-anyone to talk to me. She got all up on her 'I'm-almost-a-Death-Eater' high horse-" I stopped, shocked at what I was letting come out of my mouth. Margo was staring at me like I was about to go into a trauma-induced rage, the fear etched into her face.

"D-D-Death Eaters? There are Death Eaters here?" She started shivering from the rain, backing away from me.

"No, nonononono!" I grabbed her, hugging her to me to try to give the shaking girl some comfort. "Dumbledore wouldn't allow Death Eaters here, it's not even possible for them to cross the barrier around Hogwarts. And none of the students are Death Eaters yet. I promise everything is safe here. I promise. It'll be alright. They can't do anything to us here." I kept talking until she stopped trying to escape the death grip I had on her, until she relaxed enough to remember that I wasn't just a Slytherin, I was her best friend. Until the thunder moved far enough away that the rain started to let up.

We finally went back indoors, both soaked and chilled to the bone. I walked her to her dorms to make sure she got there safely.

"I'm sorry I freaked out. We went out to help you and you ended up having to help me," Margo apologized with downcast eyes, surprising me. I'd forgotten how we'd come to be outside.

"No, it's alright. I just needed someone to talk to me. About anything. Enough to get my mind off of it. You did a great job at that," I teased, letting her know that I wasn't scarred emotionally by anything that had happened.

"I definitely did a great job at that!" she laughed hollowly. We hugged and she went inside to dry off.

I turned from the door to trudge into the cold wet dungeon to dry off, smirking at the irony of it all.

* * *

><p>I don't know why I thought he wouldn't notice. I'd been trying not to think about him, and it never occurred to me to hide my face. I should have—<em>everyone<em> noticed. I saw some seventh-years coming towards me, and I almost ran to the girls dorm to avoid the Slytherin Inquisition that I had helped with too often. I couldn't tell them what had happened: this wasn't done by a non-Slytherin, and if Pansy was going to be a Death Eater I didn't want to give her more reason to hate me.

He was sitting on my bed when I opened the bed-curtains and climbed in, eyes hardening the instant he saw my face. He lunged at me and pulled me onto the bed, closing the curtains and casting _muffliato _and _lumos_. I landed lying down, stunned, staring at him as he finished casting and moved to sit next to me, grabbing and pulling me up to kneel in front of him.

"Um.." I started, ready to protest his use of force, when he grabbed my chin, his eyes raking up and down my face, then up and down the rest of me.

"Who?" he asked. I stared at his eyes, surprised by the intensity with which he was looking at me. I couldn't breathe. He was angry again. I was so tired of people being volatile.

I ripped my chin from his hold, angry now myself. I moved to lean against the headboard, daring him to object. He just stayed where he was, continuing to stare at me with his intense eyes, so I refused to look at him. I looked at my hands, at his knees, anything but his face.

I watched his body move towards mine, anger coming across in every gesture, in his posture. He sat next to me, still facing me, and grabbed my chin again.

"What is wrong with you today? You get _these_, come back to the House soaking wet, and won't tell anyone what happened," he snapped.

"I dunno Draco, maybe I ran into _Voldemort_," I snapped back, too angry with him and my day and stupid _Slytherins_ to care that he was upset that I was hurt.

He narrowed his eyes at me, the anger radiating off of him threatening to suffocate me.

Suddenly I was too tired to fight. I'd been fighting myself all day, fighting not to lash out at Pansy and Goyle, fighting to keep myself from spilling any more secrets than I needed to, fighting to keep my friendship with Margo. Fighting to keep from outing _him_. Every single one of my problems today led back to _him._

I slumped out of his hold, and pulled my knees up to my chest. "It's been a long day."

"You scared your brood," he said softly, smirking.

He moved slowly, pulling his robe and his trousers off, then lifting up the side of the covers that I wasn't sitting on. I got the hint, and crawled under the covers with him. It was like I was feeling from a distance. I was confused, but the feeling seemed to be from an observer, not from me. I lay down, staring at him, watching his hard eyes glimmer for me just a little as he reached across and pulled me to him, my arms between us and our legs just barely touching. He caressed my scratches with unexpected gentleness before moving his arm to my waist and whispering _nox_. I let myself relax as I felt him relax, feeling oddly secure, and glad I didn't give any secrets away today. To Margo, Pansy, Goyle, or him.


	9. Chapter 8

I'd love to say that after that night our relationship was different, but nothing changed. He was still a jerk and I was still laughing to keep him from noticing that I knew he was just mad at something else-the world, maybe-not me. And trying to keep him eating something—ANTHING—to try to get some color back into his face. At this rate I would never not be obsessed with him.

* * *

><p>I was working on my Transfiguration homework with Margo and Charlie in the Library when they approached me with their plan.<p>

"We have a plan!" Charlie said, triumphantly.

"A plan for what?"

"To get you laid, of course!" giggled Margo. "And to keep the Death Eaters off of our backs!"

"Those go together?" I stared at them as they laughed as silently as possible.

"Why yes, miss unbeliever," Charlie began. "If we get you laid—with one very scary-sexy Slytherin, of course—all of the mini-Death Eaters will be too afraid of him to do anything."

"You know he has this 'I'm-more-important' vibe, and none of them take him down a peg, so he must _actually_ be more important. And what's more important to the bad guys than a Death Eater?" Margo added.

"So how are you two gonna get me laid?" I asked, sure this was gonna be good.

"Well, for one you're gonna have to kiss him again. So be grateful for that," Margo started.

"And don't look at us like that. You know you want the opportunity," Charlie chided.

"So next time it rains we're gonna go outside, get wet, then come in, and run into him."

"He'll be so turned on that he won't be able to do anything _but_ kiss you!"

I put my head in my hands. "Please say you guys are joking."

They looked at me disapprovingly and shook their heads. "Not even one bit," Charlie deadpanned. Then they burst into laughter and we laughed until Madam Pince shushed us.

"Why do we have to talk about him anyways? We always talk about him. I really do have homework to do this time, guys!"

"We always talk about him because it's not every year this beautiful American comes to Hogwarts and gets closer to him than anyone _ever_!" Margo crowed.

Charlie nodded. "But, just for you, we'll change the subject. Are you going to Hogsmeade with us this weekend?"

"Of course! I need some time out of this castle before it snows!"

* * *

><p>Of course it snowed that week. Part of me was glad I got out of Margo and Charlie trying their plan just for kicks, but the other part wished for just a little bit longer without the snow. My parents had debated staying in the UK for Christmas Break, but had decided against it: I was staying at Hogwarts. Margo and Charlie would have offered one or both of their houses, but Charlie's family was going on vacation to Italy, and Margo had a single muggle mother and three younger siblings and couldn't afford a guest.<p>

I learned all of this the morning it started snowing. I was sure that even my faint misery would bring Draco out of the woodwork, but I went the whole day without even a glimpse of him. I didn't see him until Saturday night, after poor Katie Bell was cursed with a necklace. It was big news all over the castle: it even managed to get Charlie to be something other than snarky for a few minutes.

I was in bed, re-reading the letter I'd gotten that morning, telling me my parents were leaving for the US tomorrow, when he swept onto my bed, casting the usual spells and collapsing in a pile facedown next to me.

"Are you okay?"

"Shmrrpherhrmph."

"Oh I see. You hate my pillow. Sad fate indeed."

He turned his head, narrowing his red-rimmed eyes at me. My eyes widened at the sight of his drained face, the contrast of his red eyes making his skin look whiter than usual. Resisting the urge to run my fingers through his hair, I lay down so that I was curled up facing him, my hands underneath my head to force them away from his. I watched his eyes, wishing for them to have any glimmer of life in them, anything but the dead flatness that covered them.

My hand moved of its own volition, resting itself on his silky head, my fingers automatically tangling in his hair, causing his eyes to close, his body to relax.

I moved slightly, ruining the moment when my letter crinkled beneath me. His eyes shot open and he grabbed for the letter, moving onto his back to read it.

"Hey, what is this? You're too tired to do anything until there's some of my business to stick your head into?" I sat up, reclining against my headboard and watching his face change with what he read.

He finished the letter and looked at me. "They're letting you stay and they're not visiting you for Christmas Break."

I raised my eyebrows, not deigning to answer his statement.

"Why would they leave like that? Family shouldn't ever abandon family." He said it like it was the rule of his being, the one thing that he held on to, and I was ruining it.

"They're not abandoning me. I told them to go and be safe. I'm growing up, making my own decisions. Someday I'll start my own family."

"Which will still be their family. They should be here for you, for that."

"I don't see where you're getting with this. If it gets that far I'll visit, they'll visit, we'll stay in touch."

"Families should do more than 'stay in touch.' That's not right."

"Well, your family serves the Dark Lord. How is that right?" I regretted the words the instant they left my mouth, as his face closed off again. I waited for him to jump off the bed, but he just stared at the ceiling.

"We're still sticking together. _That_ is what is right." His voice startled me, rising in intensity without changing volume. I looked down at him in confusion, wishing I could help him understand that my family was different than his, wishing he didn't have to be stuck to a family that was stuck in the thrall of evil, wishing they weren't the only people he had to fall back on, wishing I could do more for him than wish.

I looked down on him for a moment longer, not willing to let go this time, not interested in delaying this conversation for the millionth time, but tired of getting into arguments on my bed, tired of this being the only place we could talk.

He looked mad that I was not understanding, achingly beautiful features pinched together and straining. He looked tired of no longer being understood, of having to hold it together and of anger and hatred being the only thing holding him up. I felt rather than knew that he needed to feel wanted, by someone other than the dark, twisted souls that pretended he was important to them, felt that he could not handle this much darkness, it would twist his beautiful self farther than they had already been and eventually he would break under the strain and no longer be beautiful. He would be a slave. So I let it go.

The kiss was awkward at first, all knees knocking and teeth clashing and hands pulling. As he rolled us over it became smoother, as he leaned over me it became heated and desperate, like this was something we needed more than we'd ever needed anything.

When we broke apart there was a bit of panting (oh yeah, air is a thing you need), and a lot of staring, slight anger in his eyes. He held himself above me, anger and bewilderment warring for dominance in his eyes. I moved one hand to his neck and the other to his cheek, trying to communicate the warm fuzzy feeling I would _not_ name, trying to get him to relax, to not hate me.

He broke eye contact and rolled off of me, silently starting to get ready for bed. I copied his actions, following him underneath the blankets.

"Why _are_ you staying?" he asked quietly after I'd put out the light.

"I—I feel like I need to be here," I whispered, trying but utterly failing to keep my statement from becoming a question.

"You're lying," he deadpanned, waiting for me to explain myself.

"I don't know why. I just know I am." I looked down at the sheets, refusing to meet his gaze, knowing that my answer was so far from the truth that he would be sure to hear the lie from space. "I'm sorry."

He stared at me, annoyance written all over the face I could barely see, but he drew me to him, my head pillowed on his chest, his arms around me like a vice, as if he needed to control just one thing in his life. I let him have that easily and with no assumptions that the next morning would be any different than the others, more wishes than I could count swirling around my head.


	10. Chapter 9

I have tried to spend a little time telling the parts of my story that don't pertain to Draco, but when you're in love with someone it's hard not to focus all of your stories on them, so I apologize. I haven't said enough about how I managed to escape the brunt of the Dark Lord's war on wizards all those years ago. Well, after Margo learned that Draco was a Death Eater the proximity of the upcoming trials felt a lot closer for the three of us—especially me, as I watched Draco get deeper and deeper into his 'project.' So before my parents left for America we began concocting a plan to disappear, calling it our "trip" when we mentioned it in public. The three of us girls and Margo and Charlie's families—mine already planning to escape back to the USA. We agreed not to tell anyone, which meant that I was all of a sudden doing double-duty on the lying front—to Margo and Charlie about my feelings for the Death Eater, and to Draco about my plans.

The lying was the worst part of my year at Hogwarts. The emotional side of things I was surprisingly good at, but lying to everyone I cared about felt like a betrayal. After we hid I came clean to Margo and Charlie, and I honestly don't know if I'd have managed to stay hidden away from him if I hadn't had their support. But back to my love story.

* * *

><p>He left in the middle of the night. I woke up this time, tiredly reaching out for him to stay, but he shook his head and left noiselessly. I don't know why I expected anything different.<p>

I woke up the second time to whispering around my bed.

"She's such a hussy!" That was Pansy. Of course.

"How do you know that? It could all be the same guy! And the shoes I saw last night were the same ones as last time!"

"I wonder who it is!"

"I bet it's Blaise!"

"No, she's smart. It must be a seventh-year, you know she has all those higher classes. Maybe Sebastian!"

"Obviously not. She could never hope to get a seventh year." Pansy again.

"Oh shut it, Pansy. I know she never let on who hit her, but you've been gunning for her since she got here. We're not dumb." I heard the door open and footsteps stomping out. The door slammed.

"It has to be a Slytherin, so which one?"

"We'll just have to watch and see which one pays the most attention to her."

"But what if they're trying to hide it. Maybe it's the one she ignores the most."

The door opened again and the voices traveled out of the room. I smiled as the door closed, laughing softly to myself, wishing I could share the joke with someone.

* * *

><p>I went to breakfast late, one of the last people to get there. Charlie saw me walk in and sat down next to me, ignoring the looks the leftover Slytherins gave her.<p>

"You're never late to breakfast. Is something wrong?" She stared at me until I looked down at my oatmeal.

"I'm fine. Just worrying about logistics for our trip this summer," I lied, surprised at how easily the lie came.

She sighed and rubbed my back soothingly for a second, before asking me about her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. After we finished eating we joined Margo on her bed and enchanted a VHS I had brought from home to project onto one of the curtains (it was a spell my parents figured out, seems how my dad had muggle cousins who owned all of the Disney movies and I wanted to watch them as a kid). Her roommates inevitably showed up and begged to be allowed to watch as well, so we had a full bed of snuggles for a while. It was so comfortable and companionable, to have so many bodies all smushed together, and I remember thinking to myself, _I wonder if Draco ever gets to feel this way?_

I barely remember the exams before Christmas Break, but I remember staying up late in the common room writing essays across from Draco, who was pretending to read while actually keeping an eye on every male who entered. The girls had circulated their findings in an effort to catch my lover, and it had made everyone look at me with new interest, something Draco was Not Happy About. I told him he could add it to the list, along with 1) me being here, 2) me having a comfortable bed, and 3) my parents leaving me on the same side of the Atlantic with Voldemort, in another Closet Fight after three separate seventh-year boys had not-so-subtly stared at me a little too long at Monday's breakfast. When I walked out Charlie and Margo were there to ask if they needed to congratulate me on my conquest, if we had been safe (because _really Grace, you do not want to raise a baby with this He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named threat_), and if they could get details—though I could see how much they were hiding their real fear for me with their teasing.

The rumor had the added bonus that Draco came into my bed less often, because he was worried about someone (I still think Pansy) catching him. I started being unable to sleep, left wondering if he was gonna finally come back, or worrying that he was getting back to his own bed late at night with red eyes and noone to help. He also stopped talking to me, besides the one wayward closet-fight, which frustrated me to no end, even as we wrote essays in the common room across from each other. Apparently, he had trouble sleeping without me either.

When I passed him in the halls he looked even more haggard every time.

* * *

><p>Confrontation came in a back hallway. I was skipping potions because I couldn't take Slughorn's simpering tones any longer, and so I had a front-row view of Draco pushing a second-year into the wall.<p>

"Hey!" I yelled, jogging up and checking the little kid for scrapes before I told him to run off and turned to see Draco walking away. I was so angry that I ran up to him and pulled on the back of his robe, slapping his face when he turned to look at me.

"What the hell?" He glared at me, a hand over the left side of his face.

"What's your deal? That kid did nothing to you!"

"Don't try to be my conscience, Grace," he snarled, stalking forward until I was backed against the wall. "You can't stop me from doing anything. Or have you forgotten? This type of stuff is what Death Eaters do!"

"Well forgive me for thinking you still had some human decency!" I pushed against his chest but he didn't move, only smirked meanly. "Ugh, you'd think someone who eats so little would be easier to move!"

The smirk grew as he leaned his body closer to mine. "You sure you want me to move?"

I looked at his eyes but they were still empty, so I narrowed mine and retorted, "Don't think that allowing you in my bed means you know what I want."

"So you always kiss guys you don't want?" He moved another few inches closer.

"I don't kiss guys who only bait me in order to take out their anger on somebody." I ducked under his right arm only to be pulled back by the collar of my robe, the breath leaving me in an "oof!" as I hit the wall again. His hands grabbed my face, forcing me to meet his accusing eyes.

"Then why _do_ you kiss guys?"

I stared him down for a long time, panting for breath, cheeks flushed in anger until the sting of his words worked its way to my core. My hands tangled themselves in the material at his waist, inadvertently pulling him flush against me as I sagged against the wall, closing my eyes to escape the weight of his stare. His hands moved to the back of my neck as I felt his forehead make contact with mine.

"Grace." He said my name like a prayer, and I still remember the shudder that went through me, along with the echoing one that went through him.

"Why are you always so mean during the day? Why do you want to hurt people? Where's the good in doing a special project for Voldemort if it'll just kill you? What's wrong with me that you can't treat me like I deserve respect?"

I felt a tear drop onto my cheek. Looking up in surprise I saw how tired he really was—how much more tired than I had thought. The kiss he gave me then was slow and sweet, and when it was over he whispered, "There's nothing wrong with you. There never has been."

I wouldn't let that be the last word. The next day _I_ followed _him_ out of breakfast in order to instigate a closet-fight. But as I walked out of the Great Hall I felt a tug on my robe and I tripped and almost fell into the arms of my quarry, who righted me and dragged me straight through Slytherin Commons to his bed, closing the curtains and casting our normal spells.

But I was not to be distracted—this was _my_ fight, after all, and I had something to say.

"How dare you just ignore me for days? You can't glare at every male who looks my way simply because you kissed me and then act like I myself don't exist!" I huffed as I turned around after climbing onto the bed, only to be pushed down on my back as Draco starting kissing me like he never wanted to stop. Part of me wanted to argue it out, but I couldn't hold onto that part when there was kissing to be had.

He kissed like he did the first time, all desperation and worry. I met him in intensity, trying to assuage some of those feelings. His lips moved against mine, and his tongue found its way into my mouth as I gasped at the feeling of his cold hand working its way under my shirt to rest on my stomach for a second before hesitating and slipping around to my back, pulling me closer as his mouth moved to my neck.

I leaned my head back to give him more room, only to move it forward again as he worked his way up to my ear. As he lightly bit down I let out another gasp and pulled him tighter against me. Then his mouth was back on mine, and his body rolled against mine before stilling in surprise. He pulled off of me all too quickly and rolled over on his side, staring at me, flush going halfway down his neck, as he tried to catch his breath. I rolled over to match him and put my hand on his waist.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing's wrong," he replied, shaking his head and going in for another kiss.

I pulled back. "No, I mean, why are you so upset? What prompted," I gestured to us and our surroundings, "this?"

It was his turn to pull back. He moved to his back and ran a hand down his face, shaking his head.

"I don't know."

What I saw on his face stopped me from asking any more questions. For the first time I could remember Draco looked scared, of what he was discovering or what he was doing or what we were doing I couldn't say, but he was frightened of something. It was too intense of a feeling for such a small place, so I moved to hover over him, kissing away the fear—if only for a few minutes.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys... I should probably be hiding from the overripe vegetables being thrown for taking so long with this update... I promise I'm not discontinuing this fic. I love it, I really do. I'm rubbish at updating (obviously), but I'm not giving up. <strong>

**Hope you liked it! Any thoughts?**


	11. Interlude 2

**Interlude Two**

She's the only thing in my life that feels real anymore. I thought I could handle it—that she was just a distraction. But I can't keep myself away.

Everyone lashes out with anger. Everyone. It's one of their biggest weaknesses, and something I've used against people over and over again.

Even I lash out. The weaker people deserve to feel the anger they can't protect against. They should know better.

She thinks I should know better. She thinks I should be better.

She thinks too much.

And what is better about being second-rate anyway? This place is different from America. There are rigid heirarchies in place here. And I intend to come out on top. Being mediocre only works for those who are of mediocre calibre. I come from better stock. I am better stock.

I am better.


End file.
